


If you love me let me go

by Katseester



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: Angst, Bad Ending, Drabble, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 00:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4414709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katseester/pseuds/Katseester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or don't, and let the world die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If you love me let me go

**Author's Note:**

> I thought to myself, "I want to write some bad end Kresniks." So I did.

Every person in the world must want them dead.

"Julius, I love you," Ludger says - always says, every morning, every evening, as though repeating the same phrase over and over will erase the memory of eight bodies scattered messily across the pier. _I love you, Julius_.

_I killed the world for you, Julius._

_I love you._

"Ludger, don't - "

But Ludger does, pressing his mouth to Julius' skin, lips against his blackened fingers. Julius hates them - hates the discoloration, the dull, unresponsive reaction to Ludger's touch, how Ludger holds them close like they don't disgust him.

The entire left side of his body is lost to the corruption, festering darkness gnawing deep under his skin.

His lips are mottled black and gray, but Ludger kisses him anyway; eases him down until he's flat on his back, fingers under his jaw and brushing hair from his forehead, unabashed, unflinching.

He can smell the lingering coppery tinge on Ludger's skin, blood that isn't his stained into his clothing, smudged over skin.

He almost says, "you should have cleaned up before you headed back." As if this is anything like before. As if they aren't already filthy. As if Ludger has just dirt and grime caked onto his hands.

"How many?" he asks when Ludger pauses to catch his breath, puffing warmly over Julius' face and allowing him for the barest of seconds to forget that any of this ever happened.

"Just three." Not eight. Not ten, not a hundred - not hundreds of thousands, not millions. Not an entire world of people who had nothing to do with anything. Just three.

Three, he can deal with.


End file.
